All roads lead to Romione
by jammywho
Summary: Some time after they've both left Hogwarts, Ron takes Hermione on a romantic date to the lake where he plans to propose to her. My first effort in the field of fluff. Dedicated to RomanaorFred
1. Chapter 1

It was a cloudless night above Hogsmede station. The air was still and resting everywhere except around the boiler of the Hogwarts express, which was emitting an almost silent hum as the magic reverberated around the cold steel. The whole area seemed almost entirely enclosed by trees, with the exception of the passage down to the lake and the tracks that disappeared into the distance. Weather permitting; it could have been the very model of a snowglobe.

Crack!

The air rushed to dissipate as two figures snapped into focus. They had their hands round each other and one's long bushy hair was spilling over the other's jumper. It wasn't proper apparation procedure, although when you knew your apparition partner well enough to anticipate their movements, procedure wasn't necessary.

Or at least, it wasn't necessary this time. And only this time, she'd told him. Hermione had always been very by-the-book and Ron was still trying to encourage a rebellious spirit in her. He thought it would be a lot easier given what they'd been through together, but old habits die hard, he supposed. He'd never really considered it before, but maybe you'd rely on the rules a bit more if a whole world of magic was suddenly dropped on you one day. It explained a lot about Hermione but he was determined to show her you could relax around the supernatural, and more often than not, it would relax around you. Anyway, the hug apparation had gone well though, so maybe she trusted it a little more now.

"Oh, Ron, look, the Hogwarts Express!" Hermione beamed as she pulled him tighter. "Do you remember how we met?"

"Yeah; I was in the compartment with Harry, eating rather a lot, and you…" he cast his mind back- his memory wasn't nearly as good as hers –"you were looking for Trevor"

"Yeah- do you remember which compartment?"

"They all look the same, don't they?"

Hermione gave him a look of faux exasperation before kissing him on the cheek.

"It was carriage C-2"

"Are you sure it wasn't D-2?" Ron taunted.

"It was C-2." Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"If you say so." Ron chuckled. He pushed his head further into her hair until he could feel the warmth of her face and smiled. His arm found its way under her jacket and onto the smooth material of her dress. Periwinkle blue- he noted. With his other hand, he patted his pocket to check _the box _was still there. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it was.

And then they started walking down the path to the lake in each others' arms.

There was only one boat moored at the jetty- Ron had reserved it specially. Its sides were lined with pillows and its rim was knotted with a chain of flowers all the way around. Hermione could probably name all the plants by heart (latin names too, probably) but Ron had picked them out by smell. The result was an odd mix of mint and freshly cut grass.

Ron stepped in first to steady the boat (he needn't have bothered- the boats were enchanted to stay perfectly balanced and not disturb the water at all) before extending a hand back to Hermione. She took it gladly and followed him in. The two sat down together, holding hands and smiling. From his pocket, Ron produced an assortment of chocolates, which they happily munched on.

The boat magically untied itself from the jetty and drifted slowly towards the castle. From where they were sitting, the sky was barely distinguishable from the lake, and both were dotted by stars. Torchlight shone from the castle windows and Hermione was suddenly reminded of the first time she'd made this journey. She remembered feeling like royalty, approaching the castle as if it were her own. But having lived there for seven years (she'd gone back for another year after their quest for horcruxes), the excitement had dulled just a little. And yet… when she turned her head to the side and saw Ron's idiotic grin, she felt that feeling again. Her lips parted in what was probably a very toothy smile, but she didn't care. Ron was worth every incisor, every canine, every molar.

As she moved her leg, she could feel the contents of her pocket move around. She liked to be prepared, and pockets, she felt, were the best way to do that. Enhanced by an undetectable extension charm, Hermione's dress pockets had proven very useful. For one thing, there was a box in there she'd been keeping for just the right moment, and when Ron had suggested a spontaneous nostalgia trip to Hogwarts, she figured it might be time for it to come out.

When he thought they'd reached the middle of the lake, Ron tried a non-verbal arresto momentum spell on the boat. His technique was a little wrong and it wouldn't have actually stopped the boat, but he was never to know; as Hermione had cast the same spell perfectly.

To her left, Hermione could just about make out Ron doing something to his face. She took a deep breath and clutched the box in her pocket. When Ron turned back to her, he had some chocolate smeared next to his nose. She laughed.

"You know you've got a little dirt on your face. Just there."

"I know. You said that the first time we met. It's for luck."

"What do you need luck for?"

"For this."

He pulled a box from his pocket. And then he got down on one knee.

Well, almost. Hermione tackled him before his knee reached the floor.

"YES" She shouted, in between kisses. "YES" - kiss - "YES" – kiss - "YES" – kiss - "YES!"

Ron laughed blissfully- he couldn't remember ever being this happy. "Will you marry me, Hermione?"

"OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU, YOU MORON!" she peppered him with even more kisses and then she squeezed him in a tight embrace. An embrace Ron didn't think he'd ever be able to get out of and one that he never wanted to be out of.

All these years of being overshadowed by his older brothers and by his best friends and finally there was someone who loved him for him. He was in heaven.

"Can I see the ring?" Hermione asked, barely managing to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Ron opened the box, somewhat hesitantly. It wasn't the fanciest ring in the world. It wasn't big. It didn't glow. It wasn't good enough for her.

After a few seconds of silence, Ron spoke up "I know it's not much, but it's all I could afford on a ministry salary." He stuttered a little and looked at his feet. "But the diamond has a- a sort of spell on it. I think it's like a really watered down version of the unbreakable vow. It won't kill you or anything, but you really shouldn't put it on unless you really want to do thi-"

The ring was already on.

"Oh Ron, I love it." She pulled his lips to hers. "I love you."

"I love you too!" Ron said, relieved. "I didn't mess up the proposal, did I?"

"No, no. Of course not!" Hermione assured him. "Although… I'm not sure how it's done in the wizarding world, but muggles, like my parents, they have a ring each when they get married. Like a matching set."

"Yeah" sighed Ron "we have that too, but this was the only one they had"

"Actually…" Hermione smiled and reached into her own pocket. "They had another one…" she pulled the ring out of its box and showed him. The rings were identical. "Ronald Weasley, will you marry me?"

"Oh hell yeah!" he said, pushing the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. "I bloody love you, Hermione." And they embraced for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

"Oh flip" exclaimed Ron. "I almost forgot."

He sent red sparks into the air.

"What was that for?"

"Just wait"

And just as he said that, a barrage of fireworks exploded from the castle. Brilliant shades of red and gold burst forth and set the lake ablaze with colour. Dragons, made of sparks, swooped low and circled their boat, breathing flames which let loose even more fantastic figures: a house elf, a basilisk, a hippogriff, and in the centre, a hare and a terrier playfully climbing all over each other.

The lovers laid back in their boat and looked up, taking in the sights.

"Are those-" Hermione started.

"Weasley brand fireworks, yeah." Beamed Ron. "Fred and George made them specially for us"

"Isn't Fred…?"

"Very busy? I suppose, but I weren't there to be pranked all the time, they wouldn't have started a business at all. I reckon they owe me this one."

As the fireworks died down, the boat started up again and slowly made its way to the castle. Only this time the boat was rocking.

From her office, Minerva McGonagall looked down on the lake and at her two former students, content and exchanging rings. She turned her head to the forest and sent a patronus down to the twins to tell them to stop the fireworks. Nothing made her happier than seeing two of her students forming such a strong bo-

WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

She raised a pointed eyebrow and closed her curtains. _That sort of thing_ she did not need to see.

Drawing a leather bound notebook from her desk, Minerva turned to a secret page at the back. On it was a series of names; two to a line, some of which with ticks next to them. Her quill hovered over the page, passing over 'Potter J and Evans' (ticked), and then a little further down; 'Finnegan and Thomas' (ticked) until she found the names she was looking for.

Granger and Weasley R.

Tick.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the perfect day for a wedding. Sunny but not too sunny. Warm but not too hot. Birds already singing in the day. It was not so perfect, however, for hangover sufferers.

Hermione, still half asleep and recovering from her impromptu bachelorette party, was stumbling around the apartment, trying to find her phone. It was probably somewhere in the sofa. Luckily, not the fold out one Luna and Ginny were sleeping on. Her left hand felt across the cushions, and seeing the ring, felt a smile cross her face. Then, after seeing her nails, a stab of embarrassment. Her fingernails had been painted all sorts of colours, not always staying on the nail. On the fourth finger seemed to be a picture of what could be Ron, if one had never really seen Ron or if they thought freckles were the size of golf balls.

Oh God, she thought. I forgot I was an artsy drunk.

Her hand dug deeper between the sofa cushions to hide her handiwork. Something plastic grazed her fingers, so she fumbled until it was firmly in her hand. That didn't feel like a phone… Hermione blushed and pushed it further down into the sofa. Once again, she wished Ginny had more appropriate ideas about gift giving.

Aha! There it was. She turned it on to see Ron's face beaming back at her, and in front of that, a text bubble with the message "voicemail (1)". She clicked on it and was almost deafened by what came out.

"HELLO H –hic- HERMIONE" shouted Ron, who had still not quite mastered the concept of a telephone. Nor alcohol, by the sounds of it. "'S ME! YOUR FEYON- FEE- hang on a minute. HEY GUYS, WHASSA WORD FOR SOMEONE WHO'S ABOUT TO DO THE MARRIAGE THING?"

"Feyonce", she said, out of habit. In doing so, she missed what was being said at the other end of the line. It sounded like Fred or George had made a smart arse response.

"TA, GUYS. 'SYOUR BEYONCE HERE. I CALLED YOUR TELLYPHONE BECAUSE I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"

Hermione went red as her cheeks were pushed back by a smile.

Ron paused for breath, and Harry's voice could be heard mentioning something about putting a ring on it.

"ARRY BE QUIET. I'M ON THE PHONE! MERLIN'S BALLS, MAN! YOU'VE BEEN –whassaword?- ROOSTER BLOCKING ME FOR BLOODY YEARS. LEMME TALK TO MA WIFEY FOR ONE BLOODY MINUTE! 'SBAD ENOUGH YA SHACKIN' UP WITH GINNY. 'MIONE, WHEN YOU'RE THROWING THE BOOK-ET, MAKE SURE GINNY DOESN'T CATCH IT ALRIGHT? I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S A CHASER. MAKE IT SNEAKY WILL YA?"

The phone emitted a series of thuds and crackles as there was a bit of a fight over the mobile at the other end. The next voice was Harry's.

"I'm really really sorry, 'Mione. He'ssss a little bit tipsy."

"GIMME BACK THE PHONE" more crackles as Ron tackled Harry from behind and it clattered to the floor.

"MALRIGHT. I'VE GOT IT. YOU MAY BE THE BOY WHO LIVED BUT I'M THE GUY WHO HASSA PHONE. AN… AND I'MMA GUY WHO'S GONNA MARRY HERMIONE. SO THERE!"

What followed sounded a lot like someone sticking their tongue out and blowing. It might also be Ron kissing the picture of Hermione on the phone.

"Ron, stop shagging that Veela!" giggled one of the twins.

"SHU'UP. EAT SLUGS, GEORGE"

"How you gonna do that with no wand?"

"YOU WANT A WAND? I'LL SHOW YOU A WAND!"

There was another crackle as the phone dropped again, but there was another sound; a mix of laughter and shock. Then the phone beeped and the voicemail ended.

Hearing her future husband on the phone went a long way in helping her hangover and her mood. So much so that she was practically singing when she started making breakfast. Halfway through frying the bacon, she heard a high pitched voice call her name.

The voice belonged to the little house elf that she and Ron had rescued from an abusive home. When they had found her, she was bruised and black-eyed, naked and without a name. They'd taken her in and, at Luna's suggestion, gave her the name "Dobbette" and a little baby dress they'd borrowed from Molly Weasley. Since then, she'd been living in Ron and Hermione's apartment, where Hermione had tried to tell her about house elf rights and S.P.E.W. However, Dobbette was still a little stuck in her ways, but she was learning to enjoy her new wardrobe and of course, getting paid.

Hermione looked down at the elf, dressed in her dressed in specially knitted pyjamas and across her shoulders…

"Um, you do know those aren't actually shoulder-pads, right?" Hermione sniggered, gesturing at the bra the elf was wearing on her shoulders.

"My apologies, miss." Dobbette squeaked, removing it and holding it out.

"Please call me Hermione, Dobbette." She tried. "Now you get that back to Ginny and I'll make some breakfast."

"Um…" Dobbette wasn't quite sure what to do now.

Hermione stuttered. "No…" She put a hand up to her breast. It was soft and warm, but it was missing something. "NO!" She snatched it back and hastily hooked it back on. Why, drunk Hermione, why?

She sighed, both at her drunken antics and at the fact that her chest was now confined in a lacy prison and decided to just get on with making breakfast. Almost the instant the bacon was ready, Luna and Ginny appeared in the kitchen with rumbling stomachs.

"What's for breakfast?" asked Luna, while trying to sort out all the blonde hair curls covering her face.

"Smells like bacon to me." Ginny beamed, gripping her knife and fork expectantly. Her hair wasn't causing her any trouble, as it was almost permanently tied back in a pony tail.

"I don't know if it's different for wizards," Hermione began, her voice dripping with sass. "but traditionally, the bridesmaids are supposed to help the bride on her wedding day"

"Traditions are made to be broken" rebuffed Ginny.

"You mean _rules _are made to be broken" Hermione corrected her.

There was silence.

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" asked Luna.

"Ha ha." Hermione sarcasmed. "Bacon's done. Does one of you want to make the eggs?"

"No thank you"

"It's a good hangover cure"

"I'm on it" Ginny waved her wand and eggs started scrambling themselves in mid air.

Hermione suddenly realised that she'd been using her hands all morning. "Have you girls seen my wand?"

"Yeah," yawned Luna. "We gave it a little polish last night and we put it in that case on the fireplace."

Ah, yes. The fireplace. It wasn't connected to a chimney, as this was, after all, part of a block of flats on the outskirts of the city. There had been quite a long series of negotiations as to where to live. Ron suggested the inner city, as it was easier to get into the ministry office that way, but Hermione insisted on paying the muggle landlord in proper muggle money and not just using a confundus charm, although that proved to be too expensive, so they chose a flat that could only just be considered a part of London. The rent was cheaper, but Ron had insisted on a connection to the Floo Network. Hence the fireplace, (although installing that required, ironically, a confundus charm)

But what was her wand doing in a case on top of it, she asked.

"It's all part of the ceremony, Hermione. You can have it back when you're at the altar." Ginny assured her, pulling the floating egg mush to her mouth and taking a bite. "Bleah. Not done yet."

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Luna. "They've done the same for Ron."

"You're both being remarkably secretive about all this." Hermione said, one eyebrow raised. She'd only been to one wizarding marriage before and she couldn't remember anything to do with the couple's wands. But then again, her memory of it might be overshadowed by the announcement that the ministry had fallen and that death eaters were on their way. She probed them a little more, but they both seemed to enjoy knowing something Hermione didn't for once, although they assured her it was nothing bad.

In all the confusion, she'd entirely forgotten about the bacon, which Dobbette was now serving to Ginny and Luna. She was sure she'd told the elf before that she didn't need to do so much work, but she made sure to thank her for saving her bacon.

And then, stomachs full, the talk turned to the imminent wedding; make up, how to tame Hermione's hair, last minute guests, flowers, evading Daily Prophet paparazzi and the like, but all of that almost went over Hermione's head, because all she could think was that she'd be marrying Ronald Bilius Weasley in fewer than seven hours.


	3. Chapter 3

The ceremony was to take place at a church in Godric's Hollow. This was one of the few decisions about the marriage the affianced couple immediately agreed on. The location was scenic, colourful, and what with Godric's Hollow being an all wizarding village, far away from prying muggle eyes. This meant, of course, that the decorations could be as boisterous and magical as they liked.

Sunlight shone through three triangular stained glass windows which were mounted all the way up the wall, each depicting famous wizarding achievements from thousands of years ago and each bending the light into a myriad of fantastical colours. Dozens of balloons covered the roof of the church, with hundreds of ribbons streaming down, occasionally folding up to form letters and words: they were supposed to spell "good luck Ron and Hermione" but the 'l' looked uncomfortably like an 'f'. So far, no spell had been able to right it.

At the altar, Ron was standing, dressed in somewhat less embarrassing dress robes than usual. There were no ruffles or inexplicable furry patches, only a pinstriped waistcoat and a pointy lapelled tailcoat. And trousers, of course. He'd had nightmares like that in the past, and had to make triply sure. It was for this reason that Ron had refused any offers of suits or tuxedos from Fred and George, who (he was reliably informed) had started work on a line of disappearing clothes.

The altar itself was starting to look very crowded. Around Ron was Harry (his best man), and all five of his brothers, all of whom had insisted on being groomsmen. Fred and George, in orange and purple striped business suits, were conjuring the magical dragon fireworks they'd last used in their fifth year, which were mingling with all the dragons Charlie didn't feel comfortable leaving in Rumania. Percy was leaning over Charlie's shoulder, reminding him of the laws against keeping dragons in Britain, but Charlie was laughing him off.

Bill's attention seemed to be elsewhere, as his eyes kept going back to Fleur in the crowd and mouthing "is everything okay?" She waved back, telling him he was worrying unnecessarily. With the elegance and calm she was handling it, you'd never have known she was nearly nine months pregnant. It helped that witches' maternity clothes had an undetectable extension charm on the inside.

Harry motioned to Ron that he had to go and sort something out, and judging by the yelling, Ron could guess what it was. Firenze was complaining about not having an appropriate seat for his centaur body, whereas Nearly Headless Nick was complaining about not having a seat at all.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were sitting in the front row, or at least, Arthur Weasley was. Molly was finding it very hard to sit still, jumping up and down rapidly and occasionally clapping her hands together joyfully or stopping to worry whether she had enough tissues. Arthur was a lot calmer because he had just given Ron a very informative talk earlier today about a useful muggle invention for couples who don't want, say, seven children. He was sure Ron had heard because he'd been talking very loudly, although Ron seemed to do his best to avoid meeting his eyes.

But even though everything looked like it was going smoothly, dark clouds were forming. Literal dark clouds. Neville had conjured them and was directing them over some instant bouquets (just add water) down the aisle. What he didn't know was that at a pew near the back, he'd accidentally spilled a few too many bouquet seeds.

The magic rain pattered onto the seeds, which split and germinated like a volcano. Roots and vines propagated across the mosaic floor. They followed their instincts and went towards whatever light they could find- they slithered up the walls towards the stained glass windows and curved around them in a fractal pattern, flowers blooming as they did so. Ron couldn't help but look around in wonder as the forest of flowers sprouted around the altar and around Percy's legs.

"You, uh, you appear to be stuck there, Percy." noted Charlie.

"I can see that, Charles." said Percy through gritted teeth. "Now would you mind getting me out?"

George took a look at the foliage ensnaring his brother and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well the problem seems to be… rooted" -the twins shared a high five- in the fact that you're covered in flora."

"But on the plus side, you'll probably be vine." Fred sniggered.

Percy stood defeated while his brothers tried out every joke they could think of.

"Maybe they'll go away if we leaf them alone."

"If only there was a way to weed it out."

"You guys think of a solution while I go and put the petal on."

"You're all insufferable and your jokes aren't funny." Percy fumed.

"Wow. No need for that" said Fred, offended.

"Don't worry, bro." said George. "It's just his deep-rooted insecurities."

"You've already done one about roots!"

"Yeah," admitted George, "but it was still funny."

Ron tried hard to suppress a smile: Percy took a lot of flack for "selling out" and working for the ministry, and it helped to have him as a decoy, because otherwise a lot of the teasing would be directed at him. He was, after all, a ministry worker now, even if it was as a junior auror, but that still meant long shifts, paperwork by the ton and endless bureaucracy from his superiors. It wasn't even exciting work, because dark magic attacks were scarce in a post Voldemort environment, so most of his time was spent giving talks to schools about the dangers of dark magic and recovering all the files the ministry had lost over the Dark Year.

It wasn't something he'd ever seen himself doing, but it had its upsides. He was working with Harry at least, and he didn't have to make nearly as many public appearances by comparison. He was learning a lot and he'd found friends in the office who shared his love for chocolate frog cards.

But most importantly, he had someone in his life that made the day worthwhile, as he had someone to come back home to. Someone who'd found a way to make alphabetising and cross referencing fun. Someone who would read muggle crime stories to him that fortnight he'd been in St Mungo's. Someone whose love and care made the rest of the world just melt away.

The rest of his life might not be how he imagined it, but he'd never ever been able to imagine his life without her.

And now he never had to.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hermione, we I don't think we factored in nearly enough time to do your hair" said Ginny, hands dripping with purple hair product.

Hermione shot her a withering look through the mirror. When she turned back to look herself full in the face, she was very aware that only half her hair had been tamed. On her left, her gleaming brown hair was straightened, but still wavy, coming down to just past her shoulder. On her right, her hair was rebelling wildly, seemingly becoming bushier and bushier, as if a certain frizzy equilibrium had to be maintained.

"It'll be okay. There's still plenty of time." This was more to reassure herself than anyone else. Her hair always took more time than she anticipated, but there was still plenty of time.

"Maybe we should just use hedge clippers for this side." joked Ginny.

"Yes, a friend of mine has a lovely hedge he's cut into the shape of a duck." Luna smiled. "Maybe we could do that with yours."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

"I think we should stick with the plan for the time being, Luna."

"Can I have a duck in my hair, then?"

"Maybe when you have your own wedding, Luna."

"Oh no, I couldn't do that. I'm going to do my hair in pony tails and have little enchanted kites hold them up when it's my turn." She positively beamed. "It's what my mum did when she married my dad."

Hermione nodded, understandingly. She'd found a moving picture of Pandora Lovegood waving in a book once, under the heading 'witch discovers flower that grows exclusively in dog fur' and ran to show it to Luna immediately. Almost immediately. She checked the book out first. She wasn't an animal.

Luna had loved it. She'd wanted to cut the article out and stick it on her wall. Or failing that, keep the book forever. Hermione had talked her out of it, not wanting to risk the wrath of madam Pince, but she did magic a copy up for Luna, so picture Pandora could move to it whenever she wanted. Then she'd shown her where she found it in the library so Luna could take it out every week.

She still talked to her every day. In fact, she had sewn another picture onto her dress for the wedding so she could be there too.

"Don't worry, Luna," Ginny chimed in. "You can do your hair however you like at my wedding. You can wear what you like too. Everyone can. It's going to be very lax. Just in, kiss the groom, out. Mum'll go mental."

"You've got a lot of your brother in you," Hermione smirked, "you know that?"

"Not as much as you've had" muttered Ginny.

"What was that?"

"I said the only thing I really need in my wedding is to ride in on a dragon. I asked Charlie if I could and he didn't say no."

Hermione nodded as if she hadn't heard the muttering, although she noticed Ginny and Luna were sharing a giggle. She definitely deserved a few jokes at her expense, because ever since they'd first gotten together on the last day of the Second Wizarding War (which had, unfortunately, become internationally known as P-day), she and Ron had been inseparable, with at least two years worth of sexual tension to work off. Over the first summer, almost the entire Weasley family had accidentally walked in on them, even though Ron had very clearly signposted his room was not to be disturbed. Ironically, his room tended to be the one disturbing everyone else, as thus far his mattress springs were immune to a muffliatus charm.

And then she remembered the second year when they were both out of school and had just brought a place. They'd been low on money as both their jobs were relatively junior and every month it took a little longer to get the rent together. Fortunately, Fred and George had swooped in and offered them a way out.

"We know you guys are having a bit of money trouble," Fred had said, "so we thought we'd do what we could to help."

"Yeah, I mean, we couldn't have got started if it wasn't for Harry winning the tri wizard tournament," George continued, "and we figured he wouldn't have won in the first place if it wasn't for you two."

"Obviously we're mainly looking at Hermione here"

"But Ron was probably quite useful for target practise."

"So we figured we could pay you back by giving you, say, a third of the winnings?"

She and Ron weren't quite sure what to do with the offer. It made sense and the twins definitely had the money to spare, but Ron wasn't comfortable taking their money. Besides, he'd once owed them five sickles when he was a second year, and it hadn't been fun.

"We figured you might not accept a gift or a loan, so we, being the exceptionally generous people we are, do have another offer."

"Yeah, we're expanding the shop a bit. We've found there's quite a market of more adult wizards and witches who also enjoy… a bit of mischief."

"So we're designing and selling products –toys, if you will- for said market. Problem is, we don't really have anyone to test them on."

"It's usually our policy to test them on ourselves, but for obvious reasons that just wouldn't be appropriate."

"So if you want it, you two can have a part-time job; testing, writing reviews, recommendations, etc."

"And we'll supply all the toys- as many as you need. Free of charge."

"All for a very reasonable wage"

"You can even work from home!"

"What do you say?"

After a bit of discussion, and the keen proposal of a confidentiality clause, they'd taken the job. For the rest of the year, they'd tested out everything from 'fake wands' to Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Lingerie. They'd given a glowing review of the special tingling powder, but the volatile lube only got one star out of seventeen.

Hermione blinked. That had been a good year.

Where were we?

"You okay, Hermione? You were out of it for a while."

Oh yeah, hair. She looked in the mirror again and her hair hadn't gotten any flatter. It still looked like an unfortunate cross between a waterfall and a sheep. Ginny was resorting to extreme measures to her right, pulling her hair taut and putting an immobulus charm on it to keep it in position. It wasn't working.

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking about things."

"Hermione, it might be time to go to plan D."

"Plan D? What happened to plan C?"

"We tried plan C while you were thinking about 'things'," Hermione didn't like the way Ginny had said 'things'- it was like she knew.

She'd had hair contingency plans in place for weeks now in the event her hair acted up. Plans A and B had been magical brands that were supposedly designed specifically to flatten wild hair. Plan C was a muggle gel which obviously hadn't functioned any better. Plan D was her last chance.

But there was a reason she'd put it last.

"Found it!" Luna burst in, holding what looked like two miniature tree trunks twisted together like a beehive. "Grandma Esme's all-purpose, all weather, hair wax."

"Are you sure it works, Luna?"

"Oh absolutely. My cousins have a pet unicorn and they use it on her all the time."

Ginny put her mouth to Hermione's ear and whispered: "there's still time for a plan E if you want."

She mouthed back; "it's fine."

Not ideal, obviously, but if you could do a lot worse than hair like a unicorn. And, she thought to herself, it's probably good for mites, at least.

The wax was cold and lumpy, but it seemed to work better than the rest. She was, however, glad she was still in her dressing gown as the wax was sliming down her back. And it felt like there were stones in there too?

"Luna, what's in this stuff?"

"Family secret, mostly." Luna smiled conspiratorially. "But I can say there's hinkypunk ooze, willow resin and nargle pods."

Well, at least the pods explain the stone-like sensation. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable, though.

She'd always been sceptical of Luna's brand of madcap magic, but maybe that was because she'd been used to reading about magic from people she considered authorities in books, and they'd been incredibly dismissive of anything other than 'proper' wizard magic. Since then, she'd seen plots thwarted by house elves, futures mapped out by centaurs, and dark wizards killed by love. Maybe it was time she opened her mind a little.

After all, her hair looked a heck of a lot better now. The pods remained, but her hairs twisted around them in perfect curls, and my, how it shone.

"Wow, this is really great, Luna." She said, admiring herself in the mirror. She checked her neck. "Um, do you have any tissues?"

"Yeah, sorry."

She wiped the wax off her neck gladly. It'd be easier and less messy with her wand, but for reasons unknown, Ginny and Luna were still keeping it from her. Oh well, there wasn't anything to do about it now, she thought, as she laid back and let the girls start on her make-up.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mum, seriously. It's fine" Ron groaned as Molly went about last minute adjustments to his dress robes. She had for the time being shelved the tears in order to embarrass her son.

"Oh, my dear, it shouldn't be fine. It should be good." Molly fussed. "It should be better than good. Any minute now Hermione's going to come through those doors looking magnificent and then how you going to feel?"

"Very lucky." Ron flapped her away.

"Well yes, obviously," she wasn't put off by his smart answer. She had after all, raised Fred and George. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't look your best."

"Fine." Ron grunted. Molly straightened his tie begrudgingly. "And don't start complaining about the tie again. I know it's not exactly traditional, but Hermione likes it."

"Alright dear, alright." She said, giving him a once over to check her work was satisfactory. "Oh and say 'cheese' for you father will you?"

"What?"

FLASH

"You know Hermione says muggles haven't used cameras like that for decades, right?"

Mr Weasley took the black curtain from over his head and stepped out from behind the tripod.

"Well, I'm sorry son, but we hardly see her these days, what with you living away from home. And every time you two come round, you seem to go straight to your old bedroom."

"Okay, you two can sit back down now." Ron said, a little forcefully.

Mrs Weasley went back to crying and smothered Ron in a hug.

"Oh I'm sorry, Ron, I just want everything to be perfect." She sobbed.

"So do we, Ronnikins!" said George, faking tears and adding to the hug.

"Bugger off, George."

"At least let me wipe that stain off your cheek" said Fred, rubbing Ron's face with a saliva soaked thumb.

"Get off!"

It was then that the church doors started creaking open, and the Weasleys suddenly shuffled themselves into looking respectable and facing the door.

They needn't have bothered.

"Sorry 'm late." Rumbled Hagrid. "Couldn't find a strong enough hippogriff. Had ter take a cab."

Ron exhaled, a little relieved Hermione hadn't started her wedding overwhelmed by his scrum of a family. So relieved, in fact, that the image of Hagrid getting into what to him must be the equivalent of a clown car, completely failed to register.

"Yer said I needed a dog collar?"

Hagrid lifted his beard and it was exactly as he and Hermione had feared. Luckily, they'd prepared and pulled out an officiate's dog collar from his pocket. It had been enlarged specifically for this occasion.

"I meant like this one, Hagrid."

"Ta." He said, examining it. "It doesn't have my name on it though."

No, thought Ron. Nor an address. Although it would probably come in useful if Hagrid wandered off. No one had told him about muggle zoos.

"It's fine. It doesn't need it."

"Alright." Said Hagrid, sounding slightly disappointed. "Nd I stand 'ere do I?"

"Yeah."

Hagrid thundered across the tiles to stand in the vicar's place.

It occurred to Ron that having Hagrid as the officiate had saved them a few sickles- they'd done away with the flower arch for one, largely because they couldn't find one big enough for Hagrid to fit under. They both had memories of walking into his cottage through a hedge with a Hagrid-shaped hole in them. Ron in particular remembered walking right into the long scraggly beard hairs it claimed previously.

But that wasn't the only compromise they'd made for Hagrid; Hermione's grandfather was an actual vicar who made a habit of wearing marriage-appropriate vicar attire rather than a fluffy polka dot suit and who stood at an attention-deflecting 5'4" rather than a shadow casting 10'1". And what's more, they didn't have to argue any of the other guests out of bringing blast ended skrewts as plus ones.

And yet there was no-one they'd rather have marry them than Hagrid. There was no-one else they'd even consider. The half giant had watched over them ever since they'd known each other and set them back in the right direction every time a petit argument had threatened to divide them.

They'd kept in touch with him, obviously. The only time they ever hadn't was during the year the ministry fell, but they made up for it the following year when Hermione returned to take her NEWTs. Back then, Hermione was down at his cottage every other day, and even managed to make time during revision season (which for Hermione was half the year). Ron even managed a flying visit every now and again, although they never hung around long enough to hear the finer points of hippogriff husbandry, preferring instead to run off in search of Hermione.

(The Room of Requirement discovered a whole new use that year.)

But the trip to Hagrid's that stuck in their mind most was the first time they'd all been together after the Battle. Some reckless Death Eater had taken it upon himself to do as much damage as possible to Hogwarts and the empty hut had borne the brunt of his assault. What remained now was more hole than house, but even when Hermione volunteered them all to the clean-up effort, Hagrid waved them aside. He'd insisted they all take a well needed break from fighting while he made tea and stone cakes. They'd all been so grateful that they actually finished them.

For hours afterwards, the four of them shared stories of the past year, settling almost immediately into their comfortable old routine. Most of the focus went to Harry, who had, after all, just defeated Voldemort, but he was more than happy to pass the attention onto others, especially once the angst-ridden impressions started.

"This is something I have to do by myself" got a particularly large laugh.

Harry turned Gryffindor Red, but was quick to shift the embarrassment back on Ron and Hermione. After all, the big news of the year was Ron and Hermione's big kiss. And once that subject had been broached, there was no stopping it.

"YOU TWO KISSED?"

"Yeah. A little." said Ron, flustered. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

"Well you spurred quite a few moments last night, too." said Harry, earning a kick under the table.

"YOU TWO KISSED AND YOU WAITED UNTIL NOW TO TELL ME?"

"Sorry Hagrid," Hermione explained, "it's just we were busy last night."

"I bet you were. Ow."

"With the celebrations, Harry. Honestly…"

"DOES THIS MEAN YER A COUPLE NOW?"

"We haven't really discussed…"

"POPPYCOCK!"

"Hagrid!"

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT. I AM TOO INVESTED IN THIS RELATIONSHIP FER YOU TOO TO NOT TALK ABOUT THIS."

"Invested in this relationship? Hagrid, I can't believe you've been trying to shoehorn…"

"STOP ARGUING AND TALK TO EACH OTHER."

"Fine." Ron sighed. "Hermione, want to be my girlfriend?"

"Okay!" she smiled more widely than she realised.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!"

And so it continued. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Hagrid trying to make them kiss and Harry trying to calm him down. It would turn out to be quite the task in the end- Harry thought Hagrid was dangerous when he was clumsy- it was nothing compared to when he wanted to smoosh your friends' faces together. Timbers quaked and roof-beams quivered as he jumped up and down with joy.

Harry looked to Ron and Hermione for help; if they didn't stop him, he'd bring down what was left of his house, but it was futile. Ever since their coupledom became official, the two had eyes for no-one but each other, slowly edging their seats closer together and entangling their fingers, smiling.

Harry sighed. "I guess this is something I have to do by myself…"

Ron was snapped back into the present by a susurrus emanating from the back of the church. Had they heard the crack of an apparition? The screech of tyres? He didn't know how she was getting to the church, so every sound caught his ear. Any sound could be her. But even with seven false starts behind him already, this one felt like the one.

But then so had all the others.

There was a knock on the doors. It echoed. The knocks echoed around the church a few times, but no-one really knew what to do. Was there someone whose job it was to get the door? Ron looked at Harry: _is this a best man thing, d'you think?_

Harry shrugged, looking clueless as usual.

The knocking came again.

Fred broke the silence: "who's there?"

The door creaked open and Luna poked her head through.

"Hello." She said, and then, when it was clear the assembly wasn't going to say hello back; "The bride's here."

Suddenly the room snapped to attention and a tide of chatter washed over them. Percy snapped his fingers at Fred and George and, surprisingly, they filed into line with the rest of the brothers.

Ron felt an elbow in his ribs: Harry's. It occurred to him that he'd been standing looking slack-mouthed for some time. He looked back to Harry, who made a show of straightening his dinner jacket. It was a few seconds before Ron's mind made the obvious connection that he wanted Ron to do the same.

He looked down: he couldn't see any problems. Oh God. What if he looked a mess? What if he screwed up with the dress robes? What if mixing muggle and wizard weddings was a disastrous idea? He could feel sweat beading on his forehead.

He took a deep breath.

And then he saw her.


End file.
